Published by

K Mark Schofer

The hardware store in our neighborhood is a weird place. I see grown men comparing 150 grit sandpapers like somebody picking out a prom dress. Please excuse the blatant misplaced metaphor.

On Sundays younger adults are the only ones working. I guess those with seniority don’t work Sundays.

I went in to buy a spring, a door latch and some dry wall spackle.

Did I mention they play really bad music. The Joker (Steve Miller Band) played on the store speakers. The sound quality wasn’t bad but it is a ridiculously bad song. some people call me Maurice.

The clerk asked me if I needed help finding anything.

“Do you sell headphones?”

“Are you making fun of our music again?

“Yes”

He did tell me the door springs were in Aisle 12.

He retaliated by playing AC/DC as I was checking out.

This is why I never linger in the hardware store.

Hello,

I’m Mark

His friends observe Mark seems wired a little differently. Perhaps it’s more likely that noticing little things often missed by others is a relic of a quieter, simpler time. He has a way with words, which he refuses to let be hindered by sub-par typing skills. People have great stories to tell if you sit and listen.

A belief dear to Mark is that there is certain beauty in the world. You simply have to look for it.